True Love
by K.H. Wright
Summary: How will the country of love fair when he can't use his sexual appeal or knowledge of romance to win the heart of his beloved Canada? T 'cause it's France.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey look everyone! I'm not dead anymore! *tah-da!* And I brought you a present from the Underworld, *drum roll* A FRANCE/CANADA FIC! Review as always. **

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France sat by his phone, staring at it like it was a hostile enemy. It had only been a few days since his revelation, and at first it had been a wonderful realization; he loved Canada. Of course, it had been staring him in the face for years! He had always held a special place in his heart for his former charge; naturally he would have feelings for him. Without another thought, he had gone off to confess his feelings to the younger man, but as he stepped outside, a thought had stopped him. It wasn't the first time he had had feelings for another person, he _was_ after all, the country of love, but had any of his other relationships worked out? No. It always went the same way: a steamy affair that lasted a short time then fizzled out like a firecracker being thrown into the ocean. He didn't want that with Canada. He didn't want to lose the friendship he had with the other man. He wanted a real relationship, one with closeness, with sharing, with cheesy dates and stupid nicknames. And above all else, he wanted true love, and he wanted it with Canada.

It was those realizations that lead him to the staring contest with the phone. How was he to go about this? A date seemed to be the first step, but where to go and what to do? He knew to avoid anything too romantic or too erotic. Just something simple, something sweet, but without any pressure for anything but spent time together. Something that would make Canada fall for him. He wracked his brain for anything, but nothing came to mind. With a sigh of frustration he picked up the phone and dialed Canada's number. He was going to wing it.

"Hello?" came Canada's small voice on the other line of the phone. France's heart fluttered; Canada was so cute.

"_Bonjour, _Canada," France started. "I'm just calling to check in on things. It's been a while since we've seen each other."

"_Bonjour _France. It _has_ been a while since we've seen each other. I'm doing well, and yourself?"

"Um, I'm doing okay," France said slowly. This conversation wasn't going the direction he wanted it to. He decided to regroup and try a different strategy. "It really is a shame we don't get to see one another very often. Maybe we should change that. I-is there something you'd like to go do?" He couldn't help the stutter at the end. Was he being too forward?

"Actually, yeah. There's a street fair near my place that I was going to go to with America, but he had to cancel. I don't want to go alone; would you like to go with me?" Canada said. France nearly jumped for joy. A street fair! Why hadn't he thought of that?

"_Oui, oui! _That sounds great, _mon ami._" he told Canada. "Just tell me the time and place, I can pick you up in the limo and we-" France stopped. _Too much,_ he thought. Nothing too lavish. This was supposed to be an easy going day with a friend, as far as Canada should know. If he went too over the top, it would be an obvious date and it could ruin the no-pressure mood he was going for.

"Um, on second thought, why don't you tell me where it is, and I'll meet you there?" France said, back-tracking. Canada was silent for a beat.

"Yeah, that sounds great," he finally said, something akin to sadness in his voice. France was oblivious to the change in tone.

"Alright, it's a date! Uh, so to speak." He almost kicked himself for saying the word. _No matter!_ he thought. _I've got the date! Now, what to wear…_

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**Okay! So this stopping point was the result of a coin toss (literally,) so if it seems cut off short, it's not my fault. Blame the year 2000 Virginia quarter I flipped. Next chapter to be posted soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hm, I seem to be slipping into that dangerous area where I write a freakin' ton of fanfics at one time and can't seem to keep my mind on just one. I'm going to attempt to not write anymore while I'm writing this one, but I make no promises. xD Anyway, please leave a review.**

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"I'm sorry France, I didn't think you'd get so sick from a ride like that," Canada explained. France sat on the ground after his legs had given way after going on an especially fast carnival ride. He couldn't believe he had practically fainted like a woman. Though if anything, he prided himself on the fact that he hadn't lost his lunch.

"No, no, _mon ami,_ it's just that when you said you wanted to go on a ride, I didn't expect you to have the same taste in entertainment as your brother," he responded. Canada chuckled and France couldn't help but smile at the sound. They had had a great day, playing games, talking, eating all sorts of unusual fair foods. It was with a heavy heart that France realized that they had but a few hours left together. The sun was beginning to set and the lights of the fair were starting to turn on, attracting the young couples. He knew that staying too much longer would be a mistake; he needed to keep this as a no-pressure date, even though the romantic at his core told him that it would be a great opportunity to start something.

France let Canada help him to his feet, letting his hands linger on the younger man's for a second longer than courtesy allowed, and feeling his heart hammer at the simple contact. He quickly withdrew his hands though, hoping that Canada hadn't noticed the awkward caress, and it seemed he hadn't. With a flow of relief in his chest, France led the younger man away from the spot where they stood.

"So," he started as they began to walk, "what would you like to do next, Canada?" Canada thought for a moment.

"Well, it is getting kinda dark…" he said. France nodded, cutting him off.

"Yes, we should be getting home soon," he interjected, unable to keep from feeling a little disappointed. Canada nodded, and opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it, seeming to change his mind.

"What is it, _mon ami?_" France asked, noticing his reluctance.

"Um, do you think we could get some ice cream first?" Canada asked. A shadow passed over France's face as his mind turned to ice cream eating Cubans. Had Canada been spending too much time with the other man? France forced himself to calm down, reminding himself that it was a completely innocent request, and that Canada had been spending time with America, his brother, who also liked ice cream.

"_Oui, _of course, that sounds great," he said, putting a smile back on his face. They made their way to the ice cream stand and both ordered a soft serve cone: France vanilla and Canada chocolate. They then found a bench, and sat next to each other as they licked their cones. A silence hung in the air and France didn't know how to break it. He looked for something to talk about, something light.

"Uh, so I would have never guessed you to be the chocolate type," France said. _Stupid,_ he thought. _Idiotic. You couldn't have come up with a worse topic._

"Yeah, well usually I do prefer vanilla," Canada responded so quietly that France barely heard him over the criticism that filled his head.

"Huh? Then why didn't you order vanilla?" he asked. Canada blushed and mumbled something quietly.

"What was that, _mon ami?"_ France asked, curious as to what warranted the blush on his friend's face.

"N-nothing, pretend I didn't say anything," Canada said, and stuffed his mouth full of ice cream, his blush brightening. He looked so cute. Before France could stop himself, he leaned in and kissed Canada on the cheek. The younger man froze, and France panicked.

"W-well, it was nice seeing you; we should do this again, um, got to go, um, um, feed my uh, warthog. See you later!" With a self-directed frustration, he threw his half-eaten ice cream into the trash and took off running to where his driver was parked.

France slammed the door to his car hard and told the driver to take him to the airport. On the way, his thoughts were filled with criticism. _What was _that_ excuse? Warthog? I've never even heard that used before. And why did I have to kiss him? Couldn't I control myself for once? Don't panic, I just gotta do some damage control is all. I'll tell Canada it was a French thing, he'll believe that. Yeah, that's what I'll do…_

France put a hand to his head. He hoped it would work.

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Canada climbed into his car, his hand still placed to the spot on his cheek that France had kissed. He couldn't have been blushing brighter; the memory of France's cold lips on his skin raised goose bumps on his arms. He had known for a long time that he liked France in a way different than friends, but he had never put the word "love" to it until today. He took his hand from his cheek and put it to his lips. Did France feel the same way? He resolved to talk to the other man. Maybe, just maybe, he did.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, last chapter!~ Hope everyone likes this. Please review. :]**

**EDIT: I fixed the French is all. xD**

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"So, Canada, I'm sorry I had to cancel on you with that street fair thing, I know you wanted to go," America said through the phone. Canada smiled. It was rare to hear America apologize, and it was nice to know that his brother wasn't always as self-absorbed as he came off to be.

"It's okay. Actually, I still got to go. France called after you did, and he took me," Canada explained, and he regretted the words as he said them. France and America weren't always on good terms, and although they held no real hostility towards each other, mentioning them to one another usually sparked jabs and jokes at the other's expense.

"That's good," America responded genuinely, and Canada was glad that he refrained from saying anything negative about the other man. Ever since the night of the street fair, Canada had thought of nothing but France, and hearing America ridicule him would probably piss the usually quiet nation off. This reminded him of the reason he had called his brother in the first place and he quietly stuttered into the phone.

"What was that?" America asked. Canada blushed furiously and forced himself to talk louder.

"Um, well, I have kind of a personal question for you," he started.

"Okay, shoot," America said, sounding vaguely curious.

"Um, how did you and England get together?" There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Canada regretted asking, but he needed to know how these things worked, and America was the only one he knew who was ever in a situation like his, as England was to him much as France was to Canada. But still, he and America never talked about England that way. Sure, America would mention that he was coming over, or that they had a date, but no details were given, and until this point, Canada had been grateful for this, as he really didn't want to know about his brother's love life.

"Er, why do you ask?" America finally responded. Canada sighed. America could be stupid, but he wasn't going to go with a "just because" answer, so Canada related the incident at the street fair to him.

"Ew! You let that frog kiss you?" There it was. That resentment that he knew was always there with America.

"Don't call him a frog! And can we focus?" Canada said, his anger making him less timid. He waited not-so-patiently and could almost hear America shudder.

"Okay, okay, so you like France. And he kissed you, what's the problem?" he asked.

"Well, France dates a lot of people. I don't know if the kiss means something, or if he's just playing around. I need to talk about it with him and I wanted to know how you managed that with England." Canada sighed to himself. This was so awkward.

"Uh, well, you're kind of asking the wrong guy. England's the one who confessed to me," America explained. "But I can tell you this, you need to be direct. Just ask him how he feels. With France, if he likes you, there'll be no question." Canada nodded. It was surprisingly good advice, coming from his brother.

"Okay, thank you America. Um, I'll talk to you tomorrow, I'm gonna call France right now."

"Alright, good luck." Canada could just imagine America flashing him a thumbs up as he said that. Hanging up, he decided that he didn't want to ask France something so important over the phone. He would ask him over, and then tell him face to face. Canada stared at the phone for a moment, then hesitantly picked it up and dialed France's number.

"_Bonjour?_"

"_Bonjour, _France…"

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Canada handed France a cup of hot chocolate and sat across from him on the couch.

"I'm glad you could come over on such short notice," he said, and France smiled.

"Of course, _mon ami_, anything for you," he replied. Canada blushed. He knew he needed to talk to France about the day at the fair, but after he had gotten off the phone with the other man, the fear had crept in. What if France had been toying with him? Or maybe, the kiss meant nothing, and he was reading too much into it? For a moment, Canada resigned himself to saying nothing, but then the other thoughts slipped in. What if France _had_ meant to kiss him? What if he really _did_ feel something for the younger nation? And what if he said nothing, and let France slip away because he was too chicken to ask him how he felt? Canada swallowed a mouthful of hot chocolate and put the mug on the table. He placed his hands in his lap, balling them into fists nervously. He would ask.

"S-so France, about the other day at the fair…" he started. France stiffened.

"Er, yes, what about it?" Canada took a deep breath.

"Well, before you left you kinda…kissed…me…" The silence that hung in the air was just for a second, but it felt like a lifetime. France let out a soft, but nervous laugh.

"Uh, that? That was just a French thing, _mon ami_, j-just a casual French thing," he said. Canada's heart broke.

"O-oh, okay." Stupid. He was stupid for hoping. He ducked his head and felt a tear hit his hands, then another, and then another.

"Canada?"

No, he didn't want to cry in front of France. He didn't want him to know…

"C-Canada? Are you crying?"

"No."

Dammit.

He didn't want him to know.

He didn't want…

He couldn't stop it now, tears fell from his eyes like streams, and his body ached from suppressing sobs. Why? Why couldn't France love _him_? He just wanted…he just wanted…

Suddenly, he found himself in France's arms.

"Don't cry, _mon cher_, don't cry," he said, his voice straining. "_Je t'aime. Je t'aime plus que tout_. Please don't cry." His arms tightened around Canada. The younger man pulled away, only far enough so that he could see into France's eyes.

"D-do you mean that?" he asked.

"_Oui,_ I do. I really do," France responded, softening his voice to almost a whisper and bringing his lips lightly to Canada's. The kiss was soft and simple, and ended far too quickly in Canada's mind. He almost couldn't believe it. His mind tried to reject it, telling him that France _had_ basically just turned him down. Was the kiss just out of pity because he had started crying? No, he couldn't believe that. He just couldn't.

"I love you too, France," he said, burying his face in the other man's shoulder and France held him close, stroking his hair.

Canada couldn't help the soft smile that graced his lips. It was an amazing feeling: to love and be loved in return. And although there were no promises, he believed those words that France spoke to him. They were all that mattered.

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**Okay, there you have it. Hope everyone enjoyed, and once again, I hope my French wasn't horrible. It was a combination of my previous knowledge, (which sucks,) Google Translate, (which sucks,) and my sister, who took French for three years, (which doesn't suck!) Please leave a review, and have a nice day!**

**-K.H. Wright**


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